


Ephemeral

by gearinmyheart



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Depressing, Fire, M/M, Sad, Treehouses, forest fic, you can guess the rest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 04:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11547951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gearinmyheart/pseuds/gearinmyheart
Summary: Ephemeral.adj.1. Lasting a very short time; short lived; transitory-----This was inspired by the forest fic, it's the same really just sort of my take or perspective on it. I wrote it a while ago when I was feeling real depressed which is kinda weird but it happened and I'm willing to share.





	Ephemeral

     Cold white surrounded him completely. Above him, around the hole through which he could see the one thing he couldn't put into words. White to his left, covering the wood he had rested his back against too many times to count on just fingers and toes. White to his right, where the fire the melted the snow covering the leaves in his mind sat, telling him of his black and blue world. Underneath him was a dirty white he never paid attention to, walked and crawled over without really stopping to look at and appreciate. As the white around him began to melt away, the memories it held stayed reluctantly. Flooding his head, forcing a tsunami of old words through his teeth and across his eyes.  
     "What's it like?" The fire's voice made him smile, despite the topic in question.  
     "What's what like?" His own voice made him sad, like just the one tone he spoke was enough to make him hate-able.  
     "Your life," The fire spoke gently, nudging his foot against the other boy's. Mingling the atmosphere between them.  
     "I don't know," He sighed and looked at the shoes gently touching, wondering what would happen if he just stopped using all his muscles. How he would land, how his heart would react. After all, it is a muscle, "It's sort of beige, maybe a light grey-lavender."  
     "Why?" The fire slowly spread, unraveling the boy on the other side of the small wooden house, until only skeleton bones remained.  
     As he lay, surrounded by white, he laughed. The white slowly faded, ran away to the dirt and leaves on the ground slowly being replaced by the orange-red he had fallen so in love with. The hair he ran his fingers through so often, shifting to the white on the right where he could feel his heat. But his fire was gone, so he had to make his own. The angry orange-red came closer and closer, running it's fingers up his spine as he smiled and sang a song he would sing to his fire.  
      _I scream,  
     You scream,  
     We all scream,  
     'Cause we're terrified_,  
     He sang, letting the fire take him to where it's hot, where the snow can melt even more. The sweet, hot flames wrapped themselves around his limp body, carrying him away to where he has always wanted to go. And he smiled as he left.  
      _But my treehouse is on fire,_  
     And for some reason I smell gas on my hands.


End file.
